


Under the Bridge

by what-am-i-DOING__ (Syntherapsidae)



Category: Jreg, Politics - Fandom, The Centricide (Webseries)
Genre: Gen, Protectiveness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:55:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22643725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syntherapsidae/pseuds/what-am-i-DOING__
Summary: Anarcho-Nihilism leaves the Centrists for a bit. He meets Ancom.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 32





	Under the Bridge

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. I know AnNih isn't a character but shut up  
> 2\. This is V E R Y unfinished but I can't really think of how to continue it im sorry

_I'm too tired to be bored_

_I'm too bored to be tired_

_And the silence is so deafening_

_It's like picking at a sore_

Anarcho-Nihilist lay on a rotting mattress under a bridge, listening to the same dozen or two songs on an old .MP3 player he'd had for forever. Even though he'd had nowhere else to go, he'd had to leave the Centrists for a little while. Had to. It'd started getting to him - the general atmosphere of that dingy, run-down apartment. The total _emptiness_ of his roommates. It had started to feel like the walls were always _physically_ pushing on him. His own ideology was basically just his depression, but for fuck's sake, he didn't _want_ to want to kill himself.

So, AnNih left for a little while. He planned on going back in... a week, maybe. Two, tops. For the moment, he would stay here. Yeah. Right here. Thinking about the Centrists' soul-sucking apathy gave him a dull, but intense, need to get up, to move around. He stood up and restlessly shifted from one foot to the other. Threw some weak jabs at the rank air around him. Mumbled along with his music; _and the headline, 'Legalize the truth'_ and _tell me, Jimmy, I won't feel a thing_ and _rotting existence / as I stand laughing on the corner of insignificance~_

The sound echoed off the bottom of the bridge. Eventually, a figure on the other side began to stir - a figure with almost a greenish aura. It took him a moment, but AnNih recognized him - quem? - as Ancom.

"Hey, Nillie~... anarcho-nihilist, right?... whadtcha doooin' here? Weren't you... with the centrists?" asked Ancom.

"I was. Had to get out of there for a bit, or else I'd off myself." AnNih - sigh, why not? Nillie - cautiously sat next to his fellow anarchist. Kiddo seemed to be high on some new drug of the week.

"Ouh. That's not good. Youuu want somethingg to help with that?" Qui held up a baggie of some sort of pills.

Nillie declined. "I'm good, thanks. Finally got on an antidepressant a month or two ago, can't risk fucking that up." Ancom nodded and began to flicker in and out of consciousness. Soon enough, Nillie followed suit.

The sound of dragging woke him up. A tall, well-built figure with a red aura was trying to haul Ancom away. Tankie, right? Something sparked in Nillie, though... a sense of cautious protectiveness came over him. It felt _wrong_ somehow to just let somebody drag the kiddo away. All he could think of to save him was to creep over and grab the bat before he got noticed.

He did get noticed, but not soon enough to prevent him from grabbing the bat and giving the statist a concussion.


End file.
